


Heavy Petting

by MistyBeethoven



Series: Strange Couchfellows [9]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Influences, Beer, Comedy, Couches, Dogs, Fridges, Gen, Iguanas, Kidnappers - Freeform, Lizards, Noises, Robin Lord Taylor character, Stamina, Toilets, Tongue-in-cheek, nosy neighbour, ransom demands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 06:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: John Wick and The Administrator find themselves in a tricky situation when they lose their respective dog and lizard.





	Heavy Petting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ivona9297](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivona9297/gifts).



> The ninth entry in a time diverting and admittedly stupid series.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful Ivona9297 for being the inspiration behind this one! Thank her for what's right; blame me for what's wrong. :)

While filling his pet iguana's food dish with fresh kale, the Administrator realized he had not seen the creature for two days. After monotonous hours spent in the Administrative offices of the High Table, he sometimes forgot he owned a pet altogether and only remembered when he was dispensing the greens, an act simply of habit.

"You haven't been using my lizard to play fetch again, have you?" the Administrator eyed his houseguest suspiciously.

John Wick shook his head in denial. "I stopped after it had that cyst."

"That was kind of you," the bureaucrat was touched.

"Yes," Wick said. "I didn't want him infecting my dog's mouth."

The bureaucrat was untouched.

"Have you seen my dog?" Wick asked, looking around the apartment.

The Administrator shrugged.

Both men were seized with a sudden apprehension known only to those few that have lost a pet.

* * *

The two men searched the apartment in vain.

John Wick threw the cushions off of the beloved couch. He found a dollar and sixty two cents in change but no iguana.

The Administrator checked the toilet to see if Wick's dog was drinking from it again but only found definite proof of why the canine wouldn't want to. He returned to the living room only after he had cleaned the bowl.

John Wick was sitting on the couch looking forlorn; there was an even more depressed than usual expression on his bearded face; an assassin without the dog he loved was a tragic sight indeed.

They tossed around the option of putting up lost pet posters but quickly nixed the idea; they always seemed more like obituaries for animals than beacons of hope.

A knock at the door disrupted their melancholy reverie. John Wick and the Administrator watched as a single sheet of paper was placed under the door and the knocking suddenly ceased.

The two men looked at one another nervously before the Administrator walked to the door. John followed, gun drawn and ready. The shorter man picked up the paper and read it, the taller man peering over his shoulder.

In their darkest imaginations they had feared the worst.

Nothing could have prepared them for the true horror of their situation.

"It's from Mrs. Milner," the Administrator stated. "She's congratulating herself for watching our pets while we were out of the apartment. She says we can pay her by letting her watch us performing any of the following... _acts_."

"I know. I can read," John Wick informed the other man before his eyes moved on to what said _acts_ really were.

Their mouths dropped open in unison.

"Now this is ridiculous," the Administrator said. "I don't even think number eight is humanly possible."

"No," Wick replied. "I assure you, it is."

Suddenly the High Table pencil pusher was aware of how closely John Wick was standing behind him; he felt hot breath on his neck and Wick staring at him oddly. The Administrator suddenly did not want proof of eight's validity or to what lengths John Wick was _willing_ to go to to get his dog back.

"I'll be right back," the pierced man said, his voice squeaking slightly as his throat tightened, grabbing the door handle. "I've known her longer. Maybe she'll hear me out."

* * *

The man returned an hour later without the animals. His face was a furious shade of red. Wick was waiting on the couch.

"So?"

The Administrator sat down next to him, grabbing a sofa cushion and holding it protectively over his lap. "I told her you had performance issues already so agreeing to her demands was _problematic_."

John Wick stared at the other man, a scowl appearing on his face.

"She did agree to a compromise, however," the Administrator continued not willing to meet the offended man's gaze.

"What is it?"

"The walls here are kind of thin and...she wants to listen to us...uh..."

Wick's face was unreadable.

"I thought we could _fake_ it for her," the man in the glasses explained, swallowing heavily.

"Let's get started then," Wick said his voice as even as the ice on a hockey rink.

"Right _now_?"

"Yes. I don't require assistance," the assassin said and from his tone of voice the bureaucrat knew he was still upset over the performance excuse. "The sooner I get my dog back the better. I don't want her overfeeding it. Not that I wouldn't love a chubby dog it just would make it a lot harder to run away from my enemies."

"Well did you want to do it in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen or living room?" the Administrator asked.

"Living room."

"Sofa or floor?"

"Floor. She can hear us better that way."

Both men sat on the floor. They faced each other.

"Who's the top and who's the bottom?" Wick asked confused.

The stamper looked at Wick agape. "I don't think that's really relevant. She's listening not seeing, John."

"God is in the details," the hitman reminded.

"God must hate us or we wouldn't be sitting here doing this," the pencil pusher complained.

The Administrator closed his eyes and started first. From his lips came the sounds he had heard from a handful of dirty movies and Donna Summer records.

Well...not quite...

Wick remained silent and the Administrator opened his eyes to find the hitman staring at him nonplussed.

" _What_?" the pierced man hissed quietly so their perverted neighbour would not hear.

"You're obviously faking it. I don't want to do it if you're faking it."

"Of course I'm _faking_ it," the Administrator groaned.

"Yes but she doesn't _know_ that. How can I pass her in the hallway if she thinks you've been humouring me all the time we've been together?" Wick countered. 

"Well I'm the one doing all the fucking work!" the bureaucrat snapped in a whisper, a difficult thing to do. "Can't you be more _noisy_?"

John Wick pouted. "Helen had the same problem with me."

Feeling terribly guilty for reminding the man of his heretofore forgotten bedroom problems with his dead wife, the Administrator tried to do better. He must have succeeded because soon John Wick joined in and gave a vocal performance that would have impressed even his late wife. 

"Good. Now we can finish," the Administrator said after thirty minutes.

"No."

"What?"

"I'm never that fast. I prefer to take my time."

"Fine," the Administrator sighed.

Five hours later, his voice hoarse and weak and becoming very tired, the High Table worker finally wondered if Helen Wick had really died from a terminal illness or if John Wick had really worn the poor woman out. His stamina as an assassin was renowned the world over; his apparent stamina as a lover should have been equally as infamous.

"Okay. I'm finished," Wick finally announced.

"Good. You go get the animals," the Administrator said, rising to his feet and going to the kitchen to grab two cold beers from the fridge.

John Wick returned shortly with the animals. He sat down on the couch next to the Administrator who handed him a beer.

"Was she satisfied?" he asked.

"I don't know. To tell you the truth, I think she had fallen asleep," Wick confessed.

It seemed perverted old women were no match for the stamina of John Wick as well.

The dog wouldn't stop licking the assassin's face and was obviously grateful for the reunion with its owner. The bureaucrat looked at his iguana. It looked like a lizard who couldn't care less. The Administrator smiled; that's what he loved about the creature.

John Wick's dog finally stopped his lavish display of affection and hopped down to the floor in front of the couch. Toby soon joined it. Both creatures sat side by side and watched their masters on the couch expectantly.

It was almost as if they were hoping the two humans would start doing something more...  _interesting_.

John Wick and the Administrator looked at each other and agreed to never again let Mrs. Milner have an opportunity to _pet sit_ ; the woman had obviously been a bad influence on both animals.


End file.
